Gone
by WritingHealstheHeart
Summary: What if Emily had been murdered by Mr. Scratch? Spencer warned them he would be doing more than throwing books.
1. No More

He stood staring at his reflection in the mirror. His face unrecognizable to himself any longer. The external bruises had faded, but the internal ones were raw and spreading like cancer. His entire life he had followed the path of right, never wrong. What had it gotten him?

His life was a fucking joke. A sick mother, a father who left, bullied relentlessly. He watched the team he called family fall apart constantly. He had faced death on countless occasions but was never given the gift of actually dying.

What was the point of being a good person? What did it get you in the end? It certainly didn't give you a good life. No, he was living proof that being a good person does not give you anything. Not a damn thing!

He warned them. He told them if anything happened to Emily he was going to do more than throw books. He wasn't bullshitting them. He was done with being the good guy. He was done letting evil win. He was going to take matters into his own hands now. Say goodbye to Spencer Reid.


	2. The Beginning

It had been weeks since Emily had been murdered. Spencer could still see her lifeless body on the slab of steel. The anger that surged through him as the tears silently slid down his cheeks was nearly crippling. He listened around him as J.J. wailed and Luke kicked things. He was aware of Rossi clutching his chest as he tried to hold back his distress.

But what difference did their tears make? Nothing! They would leave her and grieve as they had done before. They would hunt down Mr. Scratch and arrest him, risk him escaping again. Allow him to go through a trial and perhaps find a shyster lawyer who would find a loophole to get him out in a few years or avoid a death penalty.

Spencer wouldn't cry anymore. It was a waste of his time and energy. Now was the time for action. The time for justice to be served.

He waited until the light inside the cabin turned off. He waited with his breath held as the door opened and the shadow of the person could be seen reflecting off the moon. The man started walking toward a waiting vehicle when Spencer stood and shot the two electric wires into the man's back.

The man let out a shriek as he crumbled to the ground, flapping like a fish out of water. Spencer walked across the grass to his prey. He bent down, pulled a syringe from his pocket and plunged it deep into the man's skin. There was no resistance. The man fell unconscious immediately.

(xxxxx)

The man's eyes slowly opened. The edges of his sight blurred, and his ears pounded like drums. He shook his head slightly to try and clear the effect. It helped very little. He tried to move, but realized he was strapped to a chair. He recognized the cellar as his own.

He heard the shuffling of feet and looked toward the sound, wondering who had tied him up. His eyes widened in a bit of shock when he saw the lanky man enter the room.

"Dr. Reid, pleasant surprise."

Spencer stopped what he had been doing and turned to face the man in the chair.

"How was prison?"

"Enlightening."

The man chuckled as he shuffled a bit in the seat. He wondered just how tight the restraints were and if he had a chance to finagle his way out.

"Where's the rest of the team?"

"They won't be joining us," Spencer replied in a low voice.

The man in the chair started laughing. That stupid, weasel laugh. He wanted to turn and shoot him square in the face … but he needed to restrain himself. Look at the bigger picture.

"Is this your attempt at revenge for Emily Prentiss? Are you going to make me pay for what I've done?" Scratch poked with a grin. "In case you were wondering, I enjoyed every moment with her. My favorite part was watching the life leave her eyes when I killed her."

Spencer walked off to a table nearby and searched through a bag. When he found what he wanted he lifted it out and walked back toward Mr. Scratch. He slowly bent down before Scratch and looked up with dead eyes, something that for a moment made Scratch falter.

"I have an eidetic memory, can read 20,000 words per minute, and have an IQ of 187," Spencer said as he opened a container. "You picked the wrong person to fuck with. When I'm through with you … you will be begging for the BAU to save you."

With that Spencer grabbed one of Scratch's hands and it into the liquid. The intense burning began immediately. Despite himself, Scratch began screaming and writhing in pain.

"This is for Aaron Hotchner," Spencer said through gritted teeth.

(xxxxx)

Scratch had no idea how much time had passed. His hand had been bandaged and Spencer made sure to check for any deep wounds that could cause death. Once he was satisfied, he left Scratch alone to deal with his pain.

He didn't allow a lot of time in between for rest. Scratch watched as he wandered back over to the bag he had dug the container out of. He rustled around in it while Scratch tried to focus on taunting Spencer.

"I knew it," he said laughing softly.

"Knew what?" Spencer asked, sounding completely uninterested.

"I knew deep down you were all really bad people. I knew it would only take a little poking and prodding before the real you came out," Scratch chuckled.

"That you did," Spencer said as he examined something. "The thing about it is, I don't really care anymore. So, if you are hoping to spark some denial or anger or something, it's not going to work. I've accepted what I've become, and I can promise you, there isn't an ounce of remorse."

Spencer pulled the item out of his bag and walked back over to Scratch. This time he went behind Scratch and leaned over his shoulder.

"Now, this won't kill you, but it will hurt like a mother fucker," he whispered in Scratch's ear.

Spencer reached around and opened up Scratch's shirt a bit. He felt a weird clump of something fall into his shirt. All of a sudden Scratch began to jump as he felt burning pinches along his skin. One after the other, the pain multiplied as he yelped.

"Fire ants," was all Spencer stated before walking back to the table with his bag. "The pain will stop eventually when you lose feeling there."

Scratch growled in anguish as he thrashed in the chair. Spencer pulled up a chair not far away, sat down, and pulled out a book to read. The itching and burning was intense as the hundreds of ants bit his skin. Scratch tried to hold back his cries of pain, but it proved to be too much and soon he was yelping in agony.

Spencer looked up at one point and rolled his eyes. He stood up, reached into his bag, and pulled out duct tape. He tore a piece of it off and marched over to cover Scratch's mouth.

"I'm trying to read," he said before turning on his heels to return to his book.

(xxxxx)

Who knows how long the torture had gone on for. All Scratch knew was Spencer won. He was broken, beaten, and bruised. He actually found himself wishing someone would hear his cries and save him. He knew that wouldn't happen because he chose this place for a reason. It was remote, the perfect place for him to continue torturing his victims.

He never imagined he would become one of those victims. Especially at the hands of one of the BAU's most prestigious members. By now, Spencer had spent days tormenting him. Each type of punishment was in honor of someone Scratch had hurt in the past.

He hadn't eaten in days. Was only allowed enough water to keep him alive, but not nearly enough to quench his thirst. He hadn't slept in however long the time was that Spencer had been keeping him here. He had lost track of time quickly.

"You win," he muttered after days of silence.

Spencer looked up from the chair he spent most of those days in. He was reading a newspaper that he folded and placed down on the table nearby. He slowly got to his feet.

"You think this is about winning and losing?" Spencer said astonished. "There are no winners. People like you see to that. People like you take any chance of winning out of existence. Aaron Hotchner and his son will always be in hiding because of you! Mrs. Walker is a widow and her children fatherless because of you! We will never see Emily Prentiss again because of you!"

Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled out a switch blade. He leaned over a weakened Scratch and stared deep into his eyes.

"Countless other people have lost their loved ones because of you," he growled. "You are sorely mistaken if you think what I've been doing to you is a win for anyone. All I am doing is what should've been done the first time we saw you."

With that Scratch felt the blade hit his skin. It was painful and it burned but he furrowed a brow when he realized it wasn't extreme by any means. He'd endured worse over these past few days. Why was this so tame? Spencer gave him a sad smile.

"Killing you quickly would be too humane for the likes of you. It pays to be a genius, you know. I will be long gone before you slowly and painfully bleed to death. You will have plenty of time to think about what you've done while you beg for death to hurry and take it's hold of you."

Spencer turned and began packing up his things. Once he was finished, he glanced at Scratch with a small look of satisfaction, before disappearing into the night.

(xxxxx)

_A/N: this is merely a work of fiction. I do not in any way condone violence. This is all created to allow a different side of Spencer to be explored. I will always love the real character and prefer he always stay that way._


End file.
